


Artistic Liberties

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Art Student Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Jurassic Park References, M/M, Painter Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 06:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: Stiles is struggling to carry his sculpture to class, but luckily Derek is there to help.





	Artistic Liberties

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from [ this post](http://tofixtheshadows.tumblr.com/post/114966916226). I know nothing about being an art student, but the idea was just too good to pass up.

So, making a cardboard velociraptor was a cool idea—and, if anything, even cooler once actually created—but now that he’s trying to carry the unwieldy thing to his class, he’s beginning to regret his decision.

Every time he thinks he has a good grip, the tail or one of the legs will drag the ground, and Stiles did _not_ spend hours working on it, just to have it get dirty or damaged before the professor even sees it. He lets out a groan of frustration when it slips again. He’s still pretty far from his class, and a glance at his watch tells him he’s probably not going to make it.

“Need some help?” somebody says then, and Stiles has to stop and awkwardly shuffle the velociraptor around to see who’s talking to him.

Then he almost drops his cardboard dinosaur in shock when he gets a good look.

The guy is _really_ hot, and the friendly, curious smile he’s giving Stiles only adds to his attractiveness. _Damn_.

“Um, yeah,” he says, a little breathlessly. “That’d be great.”

The guy nods, stepping closer and carefully grabbing the tail, which had been dragging on the ground again.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, shifting his hold so he’s carrying the front half of the velociraptor. “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he adds when they start walking again.

“I’m Derek,” the guy replies, giving him another smile. “This is a great piece, but how did you even get it here?”

“Luckily, I own a jeep,” Stiles says cheerfully. “My roommate helped me get it loaded in the back.”

Derek nods. “I’m guessing this is for the Modern Sculpture class?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, looking at Derek in surprise. “Why, have you taken it?”

“Last semester,” Derek says. “I didn’t make anything quite this, uh, ambitious, though.”

Stiles grins. “I just couldn’t resist. And I _had_ originally intended to make it smaller, but this is how it turned out.”

“I’m sure that’s what the scientists at Jurassic Park said, too,” Derek says, smirking.

Stiles laughs. “Well, I don’t have a T-rex anywhere, so no worries,” he says, pulling open the door to the art building, and easing them both through.

“That’s probably for the best,” Derek says, following Stiles up the stairs. He raises the velociraptor up as he does, so the legs don’t get caught, and Stiles gives him a grateful smile.

“Look, I really appreciate this,” Stiles says as they round the corner, and head down the hall to his classroom. “So if you need a favor or something, just let me know.”

There’s a brief pause, then Derek says, “Well, not to cash in on that right away, but…”

Stiles grins, brings them to a stop outside the door to his class. “It’s cool. What do you need?”

“I need to paint someone,” Derek says. “Would you consider being a model?”

Stiles is a little disappointed, because he’d sort of hoped the favor would be a coffee date. Or even a proposition. And knowing art students, this might actually be one. “Is this a _nude_ painting, by any chance?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

But he must be wrong, because Derek’s eyes widen comically. “No, of course not,” he says hurriedly. “You’ll be fully clothed.”

“All right,” Stiles says, amused at how flustered Derek is. Looking like he does, Stiles figured Derek would be used to people offering to get naked for him. Not that Stiles was offering, exactly, but he’d definitely considered it. “I’ll do it.” He digs out his phone, shifting the velociraptor awkwardly. “Just, um, give me your number, and we can set something up.”

“Great,” Derek says, smiling again. “Thank you.”

 

*

 

A little over a week and several texts later, Stiles arrives at Derek’s apartment. “I got an A on my velociraptor,” he says excitedly when Derek opens the door.

“As you should have,” Derek says, gesturing him inside. “It was magnificent.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says. He’s about to say something else, but he gets distracted by Derek’s living room, which he’s obviously turned into a painting studio. There’s drop cloths on the floor, a couple of easels set up in different places, and some old dressers covered in drips of paint.

Stiles leans against one of them, hip cocked, because he’s tired and he can’t see anywhere to actually sit down.

“Hey, can you stay like that for a minute?” Derek says suddenly.

“Uh, sure,” Stiles says, trying to keep still as Derek snaps some pictures, then grabs a sketchbook and starts drawing in long fast strokes. “So, the painting is for a class, right?” he asks, hoping Derek will be done soon. “What’s the assignment?”

“I have to paint four portraits, from the shoulders up,” Derek says, and closes the sketchbook.

“How come you didn’t just paint your friends, or something?” Stiles asks curiously. _Rather than ask a stranger_ , he doesn’t say.

“I did, but I only have three friends,” Derek says, giving him an embarrassed smile.

Considering that Stiles only has _one_ good friend, and a few casual acquaintances, he’s really in no position to judge.

“And I didn’t want to paint my sisters, they’d make fun of me the whole time,” he adds, rolling his eyes.

“Can I see them?” Stiles asks. “Can I see the paintings you already did?” Because truth be told, not all art students have the same amount of talent, and Stiles is curious where Derek’s skill level is.

“Um, sure,” Derek says. “They’re right over here.”

He follows Derek to the hallway, where three canvases are leaned up against the wall. They’re _really_ good. Stiles crouches down to get a better look at the closest one. It’s of a guy with high, perfect cheekbones and golden, curly hair. He has an almost cherubic appearance, which is only heightened by his bright blue eyes.

“This is a real person?” Stiles asks disbelievingly. He glances over at the other two paintings. “Are your friends all models, or something?”

Derek snorts a laugh. “Yes, Isaac is a real person. And no, they’re not models. Though I’m definitely going to tell them you said that,” he says, grinning.

“Feel free,” Stiles says easily. “You should introduce me to them sometime, I could deliver the compliment in person.” Then he winces internally, because Derek _doesn’t even know him_ , and may not want to do that at all.

But Derek just nods and says, “Sure, that’d be great.” He nudges Stiles gently. “Come on, we better get started. I’ll grab you a chair.”

Stiles follows Derek back to the living room, and sits positioned the way he wants. It’s pretty comfortable, at least so far.

“I’ll try to get this done as quickly as possible,” Derek says, seeming to read his mind. He sets up the easel and drags a stool over to it, eyes darting to Stiles. “I don’t want you to have to come back and sit here for hours.”

“You don’t need to rush,” Stiles says reassuringly. “I don’t have any major assignments right now, so I can come by again if I need to.”

“I appreciate that,” Derek says, grabbing a palette off the dresser next to him. “Just let me know when you need a break, okay?”

Stiles nods, and quickly finds himself mesmerized by Derek’s painting. He likes the look of concentration Derek has when he focuses on the canvas, and the smooth, fluid motion of his arm as he moves the brush.

He lets it entrance him for a long while, but eventually an ache in his lower back makes itself known, and he squirms a little. “Hey, do you mind if I stretch for a minute? Maybe get something to drink?”

“Hmm?” Derek says, still painting intently, then abruptly seems to realize what Stiles said. “Oh, yes. Of course. I could use a break myself.” He sets down his brush and palette, then twists on the stool, making a pleased sound when his back pops.

The motion pulls up the edge of his shirt, and Stiles tries not to stare as the edge of Derek’s hipbone is revealed. He forces his gaze away, standing and stretching his arms up over his head. It feels good, so he arches his back, too, feeling his muscles pull pleasantly.

Derek suddenly hurries past him on the way to the kitchen, and Stiles reluctantly straightens up.

“Is water okay?” Derek asks, head halfway into the fridge. “I don’t have much else.”

“Fine by me,” Stiles says, leaning against the counter.

Derek nods, setting the jug out. Then he looks back into the fridge. “Do you want to have a snack, too? Since we’re taking a break?” He glances over his shoulder with a smile, and Stiles finds himself automatically saying yes.

So he and Derek talk and eat at the kitchen table for a while, and it’s a lot of fun. Eventually they do head back in the living room, so Derek can keep painting, but it’s only for another hour.

Derek lets him take a look at the canvas before he goes. The painting _does_ look like him, but sort of muted, and blurry at the edges.

“I’ll add in the details later,” Derek explains. “But I have a good base to work off, now. Thank you.”

“Happy to help,” Stiles says, smiling. “Let me know if you do end up needing me to come back.”

“Of course,” Derek says, walking him out. He raises his eyebrows when they get to Stiles’ jeep. “And if _you_ need help with anything, dinosaurs or not, feel free to call.”

“For sure,” Stiles says, his mind already searching for an excuse to see Derek again. He’s sure he’ll be able to come up with something.

Derek gives him a wave as he drives away, and Stiles grins when the smear of paint on Derek’s cheek catches the light.

 

*

 

Scott eyes him suspiciously as he comes through the door, eyes lingering on the shopping bag in Stiles’ hand.

“Dude, is that paint?” he asks curiously.

“Yeah, I’m going to paint Derek tomorrow,” Stiles says. He’d managed to wait a whole week before he’d given in and texted Derek, with the most contrived and unoriginal excuse ever. But to his surprise, Derek had readily agreed to come over and let Stiles paint him.

“ _You’re_ going to paint him?” Scott says disbelievingly. “Stiles, you are _not_ a painter.”

Stiles would be insulted, but Scott’s not wrong. Though he’d gotten through the two painting classes required for his major, it was only just barely. Stiles is much better with things that are more hands-on. He loves to sculpt—especially with clay, but he’s good with other materials, like cardboard and metal too. He likes the _concept_ of painting, he’s just not so great at the execution.

“Don’t worry,” he says to Scott, who still looks dubious. “I’ve got it covered.”

“When’s he coming over?” Scott asks. “I’ll make sure to clear out.”

“Dude, you don’t have to leave,” Stiles says, raising his eyebrows. “Unless I’ve read him _very_ wrong, we’re not going to be doing anything explicit. I’m not even sure he’s into guys.”

“But you have a hunch,” Scott says, flopping down on the couch.

“More like a hopeful wish,” Stiles says, laughing. “And he’s coming over tomorrow afternoon, which gives you plenty of time to make a date with Allison.”

“Good idea,” Scott says dreamily, already pulling out his phone.

They’ve only been dating a few weeks, but Scott’s already completely gone for her. Stiles would be embarrassed for him if he wasn’t so adorable about it.

But hearing him talk about her so often makes him wish he wasn’t single.  

But if he’s lucky, he might not be for too much longer.

 

*

 

Derek shows up at his door right on time, carrying something flat wrapped in a cloth. “Um, I brought you something,” he says, giving Stiles a shy smile.

“Sweet,” Stiles says when Derek hands it over, because he figures Derek is showing him how his portrait turned out.

But when he unwraps it, he can’t help making a surprised little gasp. The painting _is_ of him, but it’s not the one he sat for. Instead, he’s leaning against the side of his old blue jeep, elbow resting on the hood, a slight smile on his face.

He recognizes the pose from when he was leaning on Derek’s dresser. But Derek only had a few minutes to look at the color of his jeep, and he got it _exactly right_.

“Derek, this is amazing!” he says, eyes still flitting over every detail. “You captured my jeep perfectly!”

“I have a good eye for that kind of thing,” Derek says, looking pleased. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Dude, I _love_ it,” Stiles says firmly, feeling a swell of emotion in his chest. “You don’t know how much that jeep means to me.” Then he grins, and holds the painting out at arm’s length. “Do you think it’d be narcissistic if I hung it in my bedroom?” 

“No,” Derek says, laughing. “You’re just appreciating a masterpiece.”

“True enough,” Stiles says, winking. “I gotta go get my supplies, but I’ll be right back.”

He carefully leans the painting against the wall by his bed, then grabs everything he’ll need. “Okay,” he says, spreading a sheet over the living room carpet. “Take your shirt off and lay down.”

Derek stares like he’s not sure if Stiles is joking, then he just shrugs and strips his shirt off. “Do I need to take my pants off, too?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Is _this_ a nude painting?”

“No,” Stiles says quickly, trying not to blush. “Just the shirt is fine. Now, lay down on your stomach,” he says, pointing to the sheet.

“This is a weird pose,” Derek says, though he does it anyway. Then he looks around and says, “Wait a minute. You don’t even have a canvas or sketchbook out. What are you going to paint on?”

“When I said I was going to paint you, I meant it literally,” Stiles says with a grin, holding up a package of skin-safe body paint. “Unless that’s not okay, of course,” he adds hurriedly.

Derek laughs, then gives Stiles something like a fond smile. “Go ahead,” he says, settling his head on his arms.

“Um, okay,” Stiles says, a little surprised at Derek’s willingness to just go with it. He sits down next to Derek on the sheet, and squirts paint on to one of his old palettes. “This might be a little cold, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Derek murmurs.

He looks very comfortable, laying half-naked in Stiles’ living room.

“Okay,” Stiles says, and starts playing some music on his phone before picking up a brush. “Here we go.”

He starts at the top of Derek’s shoulders, painting as carefully as he can. Then he switches brushes and moves to a different spot, because he doesn’t want Derek to figure out what he’s up to.

“Hey, you said you live with a roommate, right?” Derek asks, sounding drowsy. “Is he here?”

“No, he’s with his girlfriend right now,” Stiles says, mixing a new color. This is the most fun he’s ever had with painting. “They’re ridiculously cute together, and it always makes me a little jealous, because I’m single,” he adds as casually as possible.

“Me too,” Derek says. “Spending so much time in my apartment painting means I don’t get to meet many new people. So I haven’t dated anyone since Michael and I broke up six months ago.”

Derek no longer looks relaxed, but is instead tensed up and still, like he’s waiting for something.

“The woes of being an art major,” Stiles says easily, and watches the tension ease out of Derek’s body. “I haven’t dated anyone in months, either. I tend to get super focused on my projects, and forget that the outside world even exists.”

“Yeah,” Derek says quietly. Then, “I think I’m falling asleep, sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Stiles says, carefully painting a bright green leaf against Derek’s rib. “It’s going to be a little while longer.”

“You can keep talking to me, though,” Derek says. “What happened to your cardboard velociraptor?”

“My professor liked it so much, he asked if he could put it on display for a while. He wanted other students to have a chance to see it,” Stiles says, grinning. “I said yes, of course.”

He rambles for a while longer, answering occasional questions from a drowsy-sounding Derek. Finally, he’s done, and he sets his palette and brush down with relief.

He gently taps Derek’s rather lovely bicep, and waits for him to rouse.

“What is it?”

“I’m done,” Stiles says, setting a hand mirror next to Derek. “You can go have a look in the bathroom, if you want.”

Stiles can feel the butterflies in his stomach, now that he’s really doing this.

Derek sits up carefully, and Stiles gives him a quick smile before grabbing his supplies and heading for the kitchen sink. He leans against the counter and takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm down.

He’d painted a wreath of vines on Derek’s back, covered in pale blue and red flowers, surrounding the words: _Would you go out with me? I may not be a great painter, but I can be a good boyfriend_.

He dumps the brushes in a cup of water, then goes back to the living room to wait for an answer.

Derek returns moments later, his face expressionless. “Do you really think I’d spend hours painting the jeep of someone I _didn’t like_?” he asks, breaking into a grin. “Of course I want to go out with you.”

“Yeah?” Stiles says, smiling back.

“Yeah,” Derek says softly. “But before that date, I want you to take a picture of this,” he says, pointing to his back. “I want to remember the first painting my boyfriend did for me,” he adds with a wink.

“Sure, but it’s not much of a painting—” is as far as he gets before Derek is pulling him into a kiss. So Stiles just carefully settles his hands on Derek’s hips, and kisses him back.

They’ll take the picture later.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
